


The Lion and the Unicorn

by sparrowshellcat



Series: Wonderland AU [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Mpreg, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 17,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Kink Bingo 2011, these are all the sex scenes that are notably absent from "White Rabbit".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here Comes the Airplane

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [White Rabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/367530) by [sparrowshellcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat). 



> Warning: within lies kink and smut. 
> 
> These stories are scattered throughout the entirety of "White Rabbit", as these are essentially all of (okay, _some_ of) the sex scenes that didn't make their way into the main text. 
> 
> Some of them are pictures - those drawn are by me, photos belong to their respective owners and are gathered only for archival purposes. :D
> 
> \--
> 
> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

**Title:** Here Comes the Airplane

**Fandom:**  Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink:**  Food  
 **Words:**  1548

**Pairing** : Riddick/Xander

  
  


 

 Food was a precious resource.

Xander had discovered pretty quickly that  _real_  space travel was nothing like Star Trek, and they couldn't just “replicate” whatever they wanted. He couldn't even get a bad cup of tea and complain of how he never could get the hang of Thursdays. Pity.

So he hoarded protein bars and vitamin sludge like his life depended on it – because it did – and looked forward to every time they landed planetside and got to eat  _anything_  else.

Anything  _except_  what was sitting in front of him right now.

“What. Is. That?”

Riddick looked up from his own bowl of the almost pitch black sludge, spoon in his mouth. On anyone else it would have been hilarious. On Riddick the spoon in mouth thing still made him look like he was going to tear out your spleen, if he had the chance. “Food.”

“Are you  _sure_? Because I’m pretty sure this is tar.” Xander poked at his bowl with his spoon, and yelped when it actually wobbled. “Or something  _alive_!”

“Eat it.” He ordered, seeming completely unphased by Xander's protests.

“You know, sometimes you're just a little  _too_  cocky about the fact that you're King Shit around here.” Xander pointed at him with his spoon, and flushed when the other glowered right back. He wasn't sure which was more intimidating, when Riddick's unnatural eyes glowed at him, or when, like now, he glowered at him with those damn goggles that completely obscured any chance he had of reading his expression. “...okay, maybe not too cocky. But still, Riddick, whatever the hell you call this stuff, it isn't really  _food_.”

“You'd prefer protein?” He arched a brow.

“Over  _this_? Yes.” Xander crinkled his nose, and poked at the contents of the bowl again. It was like Jell-o had gained sentience and chose to breed a child with the tar monster thing that had killed Tasha Yar. He never  _could_  remember what that thing was called.

“You haven't tried it.”

“Hey, a person doesn't have to  _taste_  something to know that they don't want to eat it!” Xander protested. “It smells like death, and it moves like some kind of... I dunno, moving thing!”

“Hm.” Riddick nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Not hungry?”

“Not for this!” He yelped.

Which is, naturally, the moment his stomach chose to growl. Grumbling about his body's very poor timing, Xander squirmed in his seat, and muttered, “Okay, maybe I’m a  _little_  bit hungry. But I still don't want to eat this stuff, it's disgusting, Riddick. You can have mine.”

“Come here.”

Xander groaned, and stood up, padding towards the other side of the table.

“Bring the bowl.”

He rolled his eyes, and turned around, heading back to his side of the table, and rounded it again, setting the bowl beside the other man's. He still thought that if they were willing to pay for a larger room and to have the food delivered to them, then they should get _actually_  edible food. He leaned on the edge of the table, and crossed his arms, raising a single eyebrow as he considered Riddick. “Well? The food is here, I’m here... what now?”

Riddick reached up to catch the front of Xander's shirt, and tugged him forward, then unbuckled the teenager's belt, casually.

“What, your solution to me not wanting to eat this sludge is  _sex?_ I always knew you were a horny bastard, but hot damn, is your solution to  _every_  situation sex?”

He didn't answer, but he  _did_  tug Xander's pants right down past his knees, so that sort of answered that question anyway. Riddick then set his hands heavy on Xander's hips, and holding him tightly by his hips, he picked him up and set him right on the table. Naturally, Xander squirmed a little and gave a token protest, but for the most part, he rather liked when Riddick sort of just took control and insisted that  _now_  was the time for sex. What could he say, he was a teenaged boy. His brain turned to sex something like every six seconds. (Or more often, he wasn't really sure, it just seemed like there was a steady stream of “Yay sex!” running through his head, it never really seemed to stop.)

“So, ah...” Xander cleared his throat, squirming a little. “What's the plan now?”

Riddick smirked, and dipped his fingers in the bowl of Xander's food, coating his fingers with the dark stew-like concoction. He licked at the tip of one of his fingers, as though considering the taste, then looked up at him with a devious expression.

“...you're not going to do what I think you're going to do, are you?”

“Depends.”

“...on?”

“On what you think I’m going to do.” Riddick calmly tugged Xander's hips forward a little, so that he was sitting just on the edge of the table, and pressed one of those food-slick fingers into Xander's ass.

Xander bucked, and sucked in a sharp breath, throwing his arms around the other's neck, holding tightly to his shoulders. “Holy  _crap_ , Riddick, give a guy some warning! And yes, goddammit, that was exactly what I expected you to do!”

“Then that was warning,” he said calmly, sinking his finger into him, easily, slicked by the stew.

“Only technically,” he whined, slightly, biting his lower lip hard. But as much as he protested, he was clutching tightly to the other's shoulders, hips rocking into the other's hands as he squirmed. “God, Riddick... okay, so it's useful as – oh!” He gasped when a still very calm faced Riddick squirmed a second finger into him, scissoring and stretching. Slightly breathless, he panted, “As lube, okay, but I still don't wanna eat it...”

Riddick smirked, and slid his fingers out of Xander, actually laughing softly when the other bucked and whined, and scooped up a sizable amount of the stew, using his fingers like a bowl, then slid them right back into Xander.

He sucked in another sharp breath, bucking. “God, Riddick! That feels so weird!”

It did, too. It was slick and sort of  _squishy_ , an almost too warm way of being full, like a sort of mockery of sex, afterwards. It wasn't a _bad_  feeling, but it was  _weird_ . “Um... not that I mind you doing all of this, or anything, cause... well... gods know I like when you fuck me and all, but... I don't get why you're doing this...”

“No?” He drawled. “I'm teaching you to appreciate any food.”

Xander arched a single brow, suspiciously. “I don't get it.”

He twisted his fingers, and the younger man bucked, clutching even harder at Riddick's shoulders, biting his lower lip, hard. Okay, _that_  felt good, if Riddick did more of that, he'd be thrilled. And the man did press three fingers deep into him, scissoring as he stretched him, grinning a little diabolically when Xander whimpered and writhed. “You will.”

“W-will I?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Sure,” he groaned, then blinked when Riddick slid his fingers out of him. “Oi. What was that for?”

Riddick simply placed his palm against Xander's chest, and pushed him back so that he was laying on the table. He squirmed, not liking how vulnerable and open it left him, but did as silently ordered. He'd gotten pretty good at doing as silently ordered. Especially when it was a certain man with an unreadable expression doing the ordering. So he lay there for a moment, just feeling sort of stupid, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long, though what he was waiting for he didn't expect.

A hot, wet tongue slid slick against his anus, and he bucked, sucking in a breath sharp enough that he felt sort of dizzy. It was wrong, it was gross, it was the creepiest thing he was pretty sure he and Riddick had ever done together and holy  _fuck_  he never wanted him to stop, it felt absolutely incredible. “What the hell are you doing, Riddick, and god, never stop...”

That hot tongue slid right into him, like Riddick was fucking him with it, and Xander arched up, keening.

“Riddick!” he cried, breathlessly.

The other man hummed against his skin, and kept working, like he was trying to literally clean all of the stew out of him. It was the most unexpectedly erotic thing Xander was pretty sure he had every experienced –  _ever_  – and he was having a bit of a hard time keeping still. His hips kept bucking up, despite himself, and he keened, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Hm.” Riddick rumbled against his skin, licking out his ass, and Xander bucked harder, crying out as he came, messily, all over his own sweater.

He slumped back to the table again, limp, and groaned. “Riddick...”

He straightened, leaning over Xander. “Willing to eat now?”

“If it's good enough to eat out of my ass? Oh hell yes.” He held out his hands, face red and sweaty as he panted. “Hand me that bowl.”

 


	2. Clean

**Title** : Clean

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Enemas

**Words:**  628

**Pairing:**  Xander/Vaako

 

  
 Ritual cleansings were apparently a big deal in the Necromonger culture. This didn't really surprise Xander, not exactly, but the fact that he, as the Furyan Lavelle, was sort of expected to  _participate_ in these cleansings,  _that_  surprised him.

Honestly, he wasn't sure he'd ever been so clean before in his life, because apparently there were  _levels_  of being cleaned, and different baths with different materials. It really didn't help that he apparently needed assistance to do this cleansing. He was embarrassed by this, but if any Necromonger had to help him with this job, thank god at least it was Vaako – he  _trusted_  Vaako, the rest of the Necromongers really  _bothered_  him. So Vaako had wiped him down with the wine, the water, the salted waters, had scrubbed his hair with soap and then oiled him down, scraping the oil off of him, afterwards. That was how the Romans bathed, wasn't it?

But  _this_  step, he didn't like this idea in the slightest.

“You're kidding, right?”

“You need to be washed throughout,” Vaako reminded him, setting up the device, which was some kind of large metal bowl with a long tube running out of the bottom of it, and he was pouring steaming, soapy water into the bowl itself.

“So you're going to put  _that_ ,” he pointed at the tube, which had a small metal nozzle on the end, “Up my  _ass_ , and use that soapy water to... fill my insides.”

“Yes.” He said, calmly.

“...you're going to put soapy water up my ass.” He said, again, blinking.

“Yes.” Vaako said again, and tapped his bare toe on the floor beside him. Vaako was as naked as he was, which was one of the only reasons he wasn't freaking out and heading for the hills and saying “Screw these goddamn Necromonger rituals” because at least Vaako was as potentially embarrassed by all of this as he was. “Come here.”

Xander whimpered, but slowly walked forward, and knelt slowly on the floor beside Vaako.

“Hands and knees,” Vaako instructed, tapping the ground in front of them. “Bend forward, put your head on the ground.”

He groaned, and did as ordered, ass sticking up in the air, flushed. His whole outsides were scrubbed completely clean, already, so he guess he could stand having his  _insides_  all scrubbed out too, but... it was just such a strange thought, really.

“It will be fine,” the other told him, obviously trying to be comforting, but just sort of sounding business like and brisk about it. Still, he was gentle when he pressed the small metal nozzle, which was at least warm and not as startlingly cold as he had expected, slowly into Xander's ass. He waited until his Lavelle, his prince, his leader, finally relaxed, and reached up to slowly start releasing the hose, letting soapy water run slowly down the tube. He held it, carefully, feeling the warm water surge down through the tube, though he kept it at a slow pace, now, and smiled grimly when Xander bucked, sucking in a sharp breath. “Just breathe. It may feel strange in your stomach, but don't fight it. Allow it to fill you, and tell me if there is pain.”

“Th-there's no  _pain_ ,” Xander panted.

“Good.” He nodded, and let the water run faster, actually grinning when Xander sucked in a sharper breath. “How does it feel?”

“It's – ah – fine.” Xander said, tightly, swallowing, embarrassed.

And yes, Vaako could tell as clear as the day that his Lavelle was starting to get very turned on by this. “It'll be even better by the third round.”

Xander groaned, heavily, and Vaako grinned.


	3. Pedal to the Metal

**Title:**  Pedal to the Metal

**Fandom:**  Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Mechanical/Technological

**Words** : 693

**Pairing** : Riddick/Xander

 

  
 When Xander was fourteen, he'd discovered that sitting on top of the washing machine was the most amazing thing ever. When it was running, the force of the water and the heavy laundry inside made the whole machine rock back and forth slightly, propelled by the spinning basket inside. Sitting on the smooth, white metal top, he'd brace himself as the machine trembled and rumbled and shook, sending shivers up his spine.

His mother started to wonder why the hell he was willing to do laundry, but he managed to pass it off as just trying to be helpful to his hard-working mother. And he sat on that machine and  _loved_  it.

Space ships, apparently, were an epic version of washing machines.

Xander had found the engine 'room' of the ship Riddick had stolen for them, not that it was much of a room. It was really more of a tight, narrow space that he had to squeeze himself into, but he'd gotten down into the dark space, the air around him hot and greasy from the working of the engine. Laying on his back on the grated floor, the pumping of pistons and grinding of gears around him made the floor tremble under his spine.

He didn't really know how it all worked, how the glowing blue battery cells at the end of the narrow space made this engine he was settled down inside of worked, how it made the ship move through space. But that almost made it  _more_ impressive, because it wasn't just that the machine worked, it was that he had to trust implicitly that it would.

The fingers of his left hand were resting on a bellows of some kind, that rose and fell in a steady rhythmic pattern. Every time it moved upwards, it sucked some of the humid and gritty air around him in, and every time it descended, it puffed it back out against the side of his neck.

Xander wished, sometimes, that he was as steady as that perfectly timed mechanical pattern.

He was trying to be.

Biting his lip, he arched up slightly. His pants were around his knees, and he was stroking himself in time with the rise and fall of the bellows, sliding his palm, slicked with engine grease, up when it rose, and down when it fell. It was hard to keep with the proper timing, because his natural  _human_  desire was to go faster,  _faster_ , to reach climax faster. But that wasn't the  _point_ , the point  _was_  the fact that it was working with the machine, as though he was part of the structure, as though he was becoming one with the engine.

He was just another gear in that engine, another piece of the mechanical structure. He was just part of what propelled their shuttle through space, just another piece of this massive, encompassing embrace of metal and plastic and oil and batteries.

Xander's eyelids were flickering, as he arched up, closer and closer. It was glorious, and his slamming pounding thumping heart was absorbed in the slamming of the engine working hard and fast and strong and perfect around him. The thrumming of the power coils became the thrumming of his skin, and his dick and the bellows were as one...

The metal hatch that opened into the engine room lifted up above him, and he arched up, trying to see. Of course it was Riddick peering in, smirking deviously.

And of course that was the moment that the engine lurched slightly, revving under him, and he came hard, eyes rolling back into his eyes as he arched up towards the ceiling of the small space, engine roaring around him.

“...you finished down here, yet?”

Xander panted, and groaned. “...technically, yes.”

“You stink of engine grease.”

He laughed, breathlessly, swiping his fingers through the spunk on his stomach, which did in fact smell a bit more like engine grease than it normally did. “You like it.”

“No.  _You_  like it. Get up here. I'll fuck you over the nav system if you like the ship  _that_  much.”

Xander grinned, pleased. “Promise?”

 


	4. Turnabout is Fair Play

**Title** : Turnabout is Fair Play

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Smacking/Slapping

**Words** : 582

**Pairing** : Riddick/Xander

  
  
“You know you won't win forever,” Xander panted, grinning as he looked up at Riddick through the metal braces of the scaffolding they were working on, in, and around. He'd always been a fan of fighting in unusual settings – hell, he grew up learning how to fight in graveyards, didn't he – so this clambering up and over a scaffold with a shiv was sort of fun. Okay, it was a scaffold in the jungle, so that was a little less fun, but it was entertaining, if nothing else. “Someday, the student is going to best the master, and I will _so_  spank you.”

“Will you now?” Riddick drawled, straightening up a little, and tucking his own shiv into the back of his belt, watching Xander.

“Yep.” He grinned, and tucked his own shiv away so that he was able to grab onto a pipe above his head, and tug himself up to the next level, swinging up onto the floor of the next section. It took him a while, because as much as he'd gotten better at this, he still wasn't some Olympic gymnast or anything.

By the time Xander swung up onto the platform, Riddick was already there.

“Son of a – should have known - “ he tugged his shiv out, and swung up, trying to slash at his lover – practise wasn't practise if they didn't fight for real – and just swore when Riddick knock the knife aside. It fell down the scaffold itself, danging off of every pipe on the way down, and he winced. “....okay, I'll take that back. Maybe the student won't be spanking the teacher anytime soon.”

Riddick smirked, and snatched Xander's arm, jerking him forward.

He yelped, flailing at the sky slightly as he tried to find purchase, tried to steady himself out, but Riddick was dropping to his ass like this was something he did on a regular basis, and Xander supposed that learning to fall expertly  _was_  something of a skill, and jerked the teenager forward, so that Xander sprawled, clumsily, right across Riddick's lap. “What was  _that_  for?!” He demanded, starting to sit up.

Riddick pushed Xander back down onto his stomach, across his thighs, and smirked. “What'd you say, earlier?”

“Uh... I said a lot of things earlier...” he said sheepishly, trying to get up again.

Before he could, Riddick snapped his palm out across Xander's ass, smacking his left ass check  _hard_ , and just smirked when Xander yelped, startled and perhaps a little bit hurt. It wasn't like a smack to the ass was going to cause a ton of pain, but it was a sharp stinging bit of hurt, and he supposed with repeated smacks, he would feel it more. “Oh.” He said, sheepishly, glancing up at Riddick. “...I might have said something about the student spanking the teacher...”

“Thought so.” Riddick smirked, and smacked his ass again, right cheek this time.

“God!” he bucked, sucking in a sharp breath. “D-don't – I didn't mean  _literally_...”

“I meant literally.” He smirked, and slapped Xander's ass again. He smirked a little wider every time that Xander bucked, and set up a fairly steady rhythm of blows, determined to teach Xander a lesson.

“No fair,” he whimpered, knuckles white where he gripped tightly at the poles of the scaffolding.

“Very fair,” he drawled, smacking harder, and Xander cried out, bucking.


	5. Twist

**Title:**  Twist   
**Fandom:**  Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover   
**Kink:**  Sex Toys (Non Penetrating)   
**Art**   
**Pairing:**  Riddick/Xander   
  
  
  



	6. Smirk

**Title** : Smirk

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Obedience

**Words** : 752

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

 

  
Xander had noticed that sex sort of  _happened_  to him. He never really planned it himself, he just sort of stumbled into it on a regular sort of basis, and when he did, the other person always seemed to be the one in control. Now, granted, he didn't  _mind_  this, he was more than happy to tumble into sex, but it did seem a little, well, emasculating. What was wrong with him, that he couldn't just get into mischief without someone else basically telling him he was going to?

Okay, he reasoned, there was nothing technically  _wrong_  with him. If he was able to sit down with someone smart like Willow, he would have been able to talk it out, and he was sure she'd have had an explanation with big words that would have come to the conclusion that he was just a particular type of person who approached sex a particular type of way.

And yeah, okay, he liked when Riddick basically walked in and went “Sex. Now”. But every once in awhile, he'd like to be the one to say “Sex. Now.” and have the other listen to him.

And Riddick had to listen to him, didn't he? Interesting twist, wasn't it?

There was a bit of a nervous thrill running up his spine as Xander took a deep breath, and headed into the cockpit. Riddick was sitting in what was technically the pilot's chair, his feet up on the control panel, ankles crossed, arms crossed. He looked lazy and relaxed, but Xander knew that the slightest provocation would make him leap to his feet and rip someone apart. He was good at doing that, after all.

Clearing his throat, Xander draped his hands behind his back, and said, as strongly as he could, “Riddick.”

The other man looked up, frowning.

He straightened his spine, and said again, “Riddick.”

The other swung his legs down off the control panel, and unfolded his arms, considering Xander with a serious expression. “Yes?”

This was the moment of truth. This was the moment where Xander either succeeded and got what he wanted, or where he bungled it like the typical teenager he was and got an angry Riddick on his hands, instead. This was the moment where he had to be confident and in control and, hell, even  _commanding._

He swallowed.  _Confident, Xander_ . “We're going to have sex.”

Riddick blinked at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine.”

...that was easier than expected. What was the catch?

“And you,” he said, feeling emboldened by this unprecedented success at ordering anybody to do anything and having them actually listen to him, decided to push his luck just a little bit further. “Are going to get down on your knees and blow me.”

He just arched a single eyebrow.

That wasn't what was supposed to happen, this was supposed to be like all those pornos he'd snuck back home, where one person gave orders, and the other just obeyed. Sure, he was ordering  _the_ killer of men around, and lesser men had had their spines aerated by him for less, but dammit, this had to work. He lifted his chin, glaring him down, trying to push every ounce of command and confidence and surety into his eyes, his voice, as he could manage. “ _Now_ , Riddick. It wasn't a suggestion.”

His face stony, expressionless, Riddick slid right out of his seat, to his knees.

Xander swallowed, hard.

It had worked. It had actually fucking worked. Shit. And if the sight of Richard B. Riddick, the mankiller himself, on his knees waiting because  _Xander_  had told him to wasn't the hottest thing in the verse, then he was pretty sure the hottest thing would make his skin explode on contact. Because this was  _incredible_ .

Stepping forward, warily at first and then with more confidence when Riddick just watched him come closer, Xander stepped up to just inches of the other. “Riddick?”

“Yes?” He rumbled, and the corner of the other's mouth quirked just a little.

_He's playing with me. He doesn't_ have _to follow my orders_ .

But he  _was_  following them, even though he didn't have too.

There was something like a tidal wave in Xander's libido, and his spine straightened again, shoulders pushing back. He looked like a man in command, a man in charge.

“I gave you an order, Riddick.”

Without a word, the other reached up to unfasten Xander's belt.


	7. Stitches

**Title** : Stitches

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Piercings/Needleplay

**Words** : 725

**Pairing** :  Xander/Riddick   
  
  
Xander had ripped his stitches.

It wasn't really that hard to do, considering there was a full on  _hole_ through his shoulder, an actual cavity right through his body in a place where there are  _not_  meant to be cavities, and every time he stretched or reached for something, the stitches pulled. This was what he got, apparently, for being stabbed by a microraptor in his attempt to save his lover.

Swallowing, he headed to the front of the ship, wishing that he could have at least ripped the stitches on the  _front_  of his chest, so that he could be holding a cloth to the now-bleeding-again wound, or something. “Riddick?”

The man didn't even look up from the window in front of him. His feet were braced on the instrument panel as he watched the stars slide past them, but his expression looked as displeased as Xander suspected it might have been. “Tell me you cut off your hand and that you didn't rip the stitches.”

“I ripped the stitches.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Riddick swung his feet off the panel, and pointed at the floor in front of him. “Sit.”

Feeling sort of small and stupid, Xander crouched at the other man's feet, folding his legs Indian-style, settling his hands in his lap.

The other man's hands touched the edges of the wound, carefully, deceptively gentle fingers brushing as Riddick grasped the ripped threads between his fingertips, sliding them out of Xander's skin. He bucked every time he drew the strings out, biting his lip. He'd never been into pain back on earth, had he? But  _god_  he was into pain now.

Riddick had woven the curved needle he'd used to stitch Xander's shoulder up the last time into the collar of his own sweater, ready to slip it out at a second's notice. He drew it out of the fabric now, and checked the knot on the dangling thread.

“That,” Xander panted softly, “Doesn't look sanitary in the slightest.”

“It works.”

“Well, it does do that,” he twisted to watch Riddick as the man checked the needle, biting his lip as he watched him tie another knot at the end, the silver needle itself catching the light of the instrument panels and glinting in his hands. If this was on earth, someone would have been freaking out about using a needle that had just been carried around next to someone's skin, or worrying that it hadn't been sanitized with at least hot water. But no, there was no sanitation – to make it even worse, Riddick cleaned the needle before he used it – that is, he slid the needle into his mouth for a moment, sucking it clean. “Shit.”

He smirked, and tapped Xander's shoulder. “Turn around.”

He twisted, biting his lip as he curled over his lap, biting his lip.

Riddick licked his fingers and swiped the worst of the blood off of the edges of the wound, then pierced Xander's skin with the needle, curving it up, and dragging the string through the new hole, a long, torturous dragging as the thread blazed a path through his flesh. He keened, spine arching up, biting his lip harder, hard enough to make it bleed. It shouldn't have felt so good, it really shouldn't have, but...

The convict kept working, not seeming to mind that Xander bucked every time he pierced the skin, just slowly working to close the hole again, to knit the skin smoothly together. It made his skin at his shoulder pull and stretch, like his skin was being stretched to cover that hole, and it ached as the other worked, but it was the best kind of pain.

Finally, Riddick tied a knot, and bent, biting down on the thread, and jerking it, snapping the thread off with his teeth.

Xander cried out softly, flushed. “...all done?”

“All done.” He leaned back, lacing the needle back in the collar of his sweater. “If you rip the stitches again, you won't have enough skin to stitch it back shut.”

“Good to know,” he panted.

Riddick ran his fingers along the strings, smirking when Xander bucked. “If you like stitches that much, cut something else next time.”

“...I'll remember that.”


	8. Temptation

**Title** : Temptation

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Emotion Play

**Words** : 937

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

  
  


She laughed, and ran her fingers down his bare shoulder, lightly, like it was the most natural thing in the verse. Her eyes were shining that glorious blue of theirs, and she smiled easily, genuinely happy. She practically oozed desirability and desire. There were innumerable men that would have given their left arm to be the man that Caroline Fry wanted.

Xander wondered if cutting off  _his_  left arm might get him  _out_  of the situation.

Oh sure, it was totally flattering that hot stuff here had just settled on the arm of his chair, and was making light, inane, mindless conversation with him.

Well, he was pretty  _sure_  she was.

He actually had no idea what she was saying. His heart was pounding so hard he couldn't quite hear anything over it, much less her light, seductive voice. But everywhere she touched him, it burned on his skin, and all he could feel was Fry's touch.

And Riddick's eyes, burning into his skin.

The other man was  _watching_ , naturally. Fry was sitting on the arm of his chair, trying to get him hot and bothered, and Riddick was watching. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, legs spread casually, goggles on, expression completely unreadable.

Xander squirmed, swallowing.

“Xander? Don't you agree?”

He jumped, started. “...huh?”

Fry laughed and rolled her eyes, like it was somehow absolutely adorable that Xander hadn't been paying a lick of attention to her. Which was completely unlike every girl he'd ever encountered, like, ever. Damn, women. He never would understand them. “Don't you agree?” She asked, again.

He swallowed. “Oh yeah, totally, of course.”

“Really?” She laughed, twisting one of his curls around her finger. “I wouldn't have thought you'd agree with me.”

He cleared his throat, wishing he knew what she was talking about. Why did she have to be so distracting? “Oh yeah, well, I’m a... surprising sort of guy, dontcha know?”

“You sure are,” she purred, and he swallowed hard as she squirmed closer.

“Uh... Fry?”

“Yes, Xander?” She ran her fingertips down the line of his jaw. It left a burning hot, invisible trail, and his heart started pounding even louder. If she said anything more, he didn't hear a word of it. He couldn't even focus on her lips, to try and read them, because his eyes kept flicking to Riddick, trying to gauge his lover's reaction to what Fry was doing. He was starting to breathe faster, like he'd just run for hours through the hills, and he felt absolutely sick to his stomach. It was like his insides were trying to make themselves as clenched and small as possible, and he had to imagine that his expression probably reflected the fact that he was scared he was going to puke. Why was Fry  _doing_  this?

“Fry,” he squeaked, voice cracking. “What are you doing?”

“Expressing my gratitude for saving us on Hades,” she murmured, her lips right against his ear as she whispered.

Riddick shifted on his chair, and  _that_  he could hear, just the rustle of fabric, more than Fry's voice. Xander twisted, glancing over at his lover, immediately, and sucked in a sharp, genuinely fearful breath at the sight of the other. Riddick was leaning forward, hands gripping the armrests of his chair, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

Xander wasn't scared of his lover.

Except that he was terrified of what his lover could do if he were pissed off.

“Fry,” he said again, voice wavering. “Please. Stop it.”

“Xander,” she breathed, sliding into his lap, straddling his thighs as she slid her fingers up to cup his jaw, and peppered light kisses along his cheekbone. “Take me take care of you...”

“F-Fry, no, please...” He swallowed. Riddick's boots squeaked on the floor.

“It's okay, Xander,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his, firmly.

Oh yeah, he should be cheering, he should be internally jumping for joy and freaking out for pleasure because holy crap she was hot and she was kissing him –  _him!_  - and that sort of thing didn't exactly happen often to him. But he wasn't squealing for joy, he was fighting the urge to puke in her mouth, hardcore.

So he pushed her, and started apologizing profusely when she yelped and tumbled back onto the floor.

But Xander bolted over her, past her, just trying to get away. Whether he had to be sick or if he just had to  _get the fuck away_ , he didn't know. But he found himself in the darkest, furthest back corner of the ship a few moments later, forehead pressed tightly against the wall, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He just tried to slow his panicked breathing, to even out his rapid heart rate.

“I told her to do that,” Riddick's voice rumbled in his ear, the other's chest hot and firm where he pressed it against his back. “Doesn't feel good, does it?”

“Why the  _fuck_  would you  _want_  me to feel that way?” he hissed, heart still skittering along, unpredictably.

“Because  _that_  is how I feel every time you spend your attention with them instead of me,” Riddick growled the words in his ear. “That's what mates do.”

“I make you feel like you'll throw up?” He groaned.

“ Like I’ll be s ick if I don't keep you to myself,” he agreed, nipping at Xander's earlobe.

 

“Fuck, Riddick... I ain't gonna  _cheat_  on you!”

“See,” he growled. “That you don't.”


	9. Research

**Title** : Research

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Pictures

**Words** : 527

**Pairing** :  Xander/Riddick   
  
  
When Xander and the rest of the motley little crew of survivors and misfits had been nearly killed when picked up by bounty hunters, he'd sort of marvelled at the idea that bounty hunters could figure out who Riddick was just from his voice.

He didn't wonder anymore.

Fingers flicking across the keyboard, Xander was typing rapidly, even though he used only two fingers on each hand. Ah, to be a teenager. As he typed, a series of files flicked across his screen, too fast to read, but he was just downloading. That was the beauty of these merc target info stations. When the computer dinged to let him know he'd found everything, he reached over and turned the display on.

In a moment, the lights in the room dimmed, and hundreds of almost 3-D holographic images appeared in the air around him. They were arranged in a ring around him, and Xander turned around in a cirle in his wheelie chair, eyes sliding over the images.

Videos, pictures, sound files, mugshots, criminal profiles, school records, company service reports...

It was a 360 degree display devoted to one man.

Riddick.

Xander turned in a slow circle, considering each one, occasionally reaching out to use the sometimes finicky touch recognition to make one picture larger, or to play a sound file just to hear the low gravelly growl of his lover's voice. There were mugshots, chronicling the transformation of a man becoming harder and harder. There were personnel records for the Company showing a young, fresh-faced Riddick, hopeful and with the hope of redemption in his eyes. There were records from the orphange, photos of a sullen, shaggy haired boy who glowered at the photographer.

In the span of only moments, Xander had been enveloped by this history of his lover. He thought maybe he understood him better.

Stepping forward, he hesitated, mere inches from Riddick's most recent mug shot – a full body recording taken at Butcher Bay. He stood at full live size, and the photographer, whoever they were, had caught the exact moment Riddick's upper lip had started to curl in a sneer. His fists were curled loosely at his side, not expecting trouble, but ready in case it happened, and the camera had been good enough to capture the sweat beaded on his jaw, the purpling bruise above his eyebrow.

Xander reached up, running his fingertips lightly across the representation of his lover's face, just skimming the surface of the holographic surface.

It was too perfect, this picture. Static and unchanging. Beautiful, yes, but Riddick was nothing if not movement.

Xander slid his fingers right through the imaginary skin of the photographic Riddick's face. The lights skittered and moved across his fingers, and he drew in a sharp breath, despite himself. Movement made the picture of Riddick perfect. It was a perfect still photo of his lover, but when he moved, reaching through the image of light, the other man's arms seemed to embrace him, pulling him into the photo with him.

He stepped right into the holographic photo, watching the representation of his lover's arms slide up his own.

And it was right.

  
 


	10. Promises, Promises

**Title** : Promises, Promises

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Begging

**Words** : 597

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick  
 

  
“ _Please_ , Riddick...” Xander groaned.

He smirked, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at the boy laying on the bed. It had seemed like an excellent idea, when he woke up and found his boy sprawled lazily across the bed, to tie his wrists and ankles to the end of the small bed. He wasn't sure if that proved that Xander was a terrible warrior with no senses for avoiding capture, or if it proved how much he completely trusted him. Either way, it  _had_  been an excellent idea, because it was hilarious as fuck to look down at his boy, spread eagled, pulling and tugging on the ropes.

“Riddick, let me go...” he keened, arching his back, trying to tug his hands loose. “This is totally not fair... you can't just do this and leave me...”

And of course that was the other part of the equation, that he hadn't just tired his lover up, he'd tied his lover up, and woken him up with a blowjob – which wasn't exactly something that Riddick did on a regular basis as it was, so it made it especially effective when he  _stopped_ and left Xander all aching and wanting and completely unable to touch himself.

“ _Please_...” he writhed. “At least  _touch_  me!”

“And why would I do that?”

“Oh god, Riddick...” Xander moaned, arching up, toes curling. “Please,  _please_ , I am begging you... touch me, suck me,  _fuck_ me... just take me...”

Riddick settled on his knees on the bed, straddling his lover's left leg, smirking as he looked down at him. “Oh?”

“Yes,  _please_...” he bucked his hips. “Please... Riddick, I will give you absolutely anything you want, if you'll just do  _something_... I will do anything you want, anything, I swear, please please please... this is  _torture_ , Riddick...”

He leaned closer to him, and bent close enough to nip at Xander's earlobe. “What do you want?”

This boy was beautiful, while writhing under him, helpless, desperate. He was such a beautiful boy, really, all pale milky skin and smooth lines, the muscles under his skin cording as he stretched, sweet promises dripping from his lips like honey as he _begged._ Riddick ran the palm of his hand up Xander's stomach, pleased when the boy bucked up, gasping, more pleas ushering forth from his swollen lips, raw from chewing on it. “ _Please_ , oh... _please_ ...”

“Please what, bitch?” He drawled.

“Please... touch me...”

Riddick lay his hand on Xander's stomach, just leaving it there, not moving. “There. Touched you.”

“ _No_...” he groaned, writhing. “Please...  _more_...”

He slid his hand up to press over the boy's chest, loving the way Xander's begging shot straight down his spine to his cock. “Like this?”

“Riddick!” He keened. “ _Please_! I'll do  _anything_ , just  _fuck me_!”

It was probably a good thing they'd had as much sex the night before as they had, and that the engine grease they'd used to slick Xander up didn't really dry the way a lot of other lubes might have, because Xander wasn't begging for him to be gentle and slow and prep him first and Riddick wasn't really in the mood to do anything _other_  than what Xander was begging for – and lifted his lover's hips and drove deep inside him.

Xander howled, arching up, screaming, “ _Yes_ !”

“Keep talkin', bitch,” Riddick growled in his ear. “I'm only doin' what you ask for.”

“ _Please_ ,  _fuck me_!”

“Gladly.”


	11. Skirt

**Title** : Skirt

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Crossdressing

**Words** : 1303

**Pairing** :  Xander/Riddick   
  
  
“I am going to kill you, and it is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Xander clambered over the metal pipes that lay scattered throughout the shipyard, grumbling as he had to hold his clothes up, enough so that he didn't trip over them. Riddick moved like he always did, of course, as smooth and sleek as a cat, and Xander managed to trip on absolutely everything.

Riddick caught his arm when Xander nearly landed flat on his face, holding him up.

“Great, now you look like you're abusing me, or something,” Xander grumbled, and pushed his hair out of his face. It had gotten a lot longer since he'd left Earth all those years ago, but it was always tied back, out of the way. Now he looked like some teenaged girl heading to school – which he supposed was sort of the point, with the dress and the sandals and the loose hair and all. He didn't exactly think he looked like a  _believable_  girl, but that wasn't the point. “Riddick, you're squeezing.”

He smirked and jerked Xander forward, into his chest, just holding him in place. “Is that so?”

Xander flushed, and squirmed. “Riddick...”

“Yes?” He drawled.

“You realize that I’m dressed like a chick, right? And it sort of looks like you're trying to do this chick right in the middle of the docks?”

“I'm aware,” he rumbled, smirking, then released him, stepping back.

“...I didn't mean you had to stop...” he muttered, but followed Riddick when the other started walking again, picking up his skirts as he hurried after him. People glanced at them as they moved through the twilight-lit area, and he wasn't sure if it was because they made an odd couple, or if people were just curious about newcomers. “I mean, I guess it does make things a little easier if people don't freak out about two men in public...”

“They've done that to you?” He smirked, glancing at him.

“Well no, not technically... but... dammit, you and your space stuff.” Xander grumbled, tripping over the edge of his long dress again, and yelping.

Riddick caught him again.

“It's like I’ve turned into your damsel in distress or something,” Xander groaned, clutching at Riddick's arms, pressing his forehead against the other's collarbone for a moment. “Put me in a dress and I turn into a whimpering clumsy girl with a crush on the big strong muscly man.”

Riddick snorted.

“Okay, you don't need to laugh at me,” he grumbled, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Okay, he could get into this whole 'being a girl' thing, it let him fuck with his own expectations. It was kind of fun. “I'm just some poor girl you're busy laughing at. You'll need to protect me, won't you, because I’m just a poor defenseless girl.”

He arched a brow. “I don't protect anyone who can't take care of themselves.”

“...right.” He cleared his throat. “That's what you told me when you got stuck with me in the beginning, right? Right. Okay. So I’m... not a defenseless little girl. I’m a... kickass super strong girl. Heh. Call me Buffy.”

Riddick snorted again.

“Hey. I’ll kick your ass if I have to,” he stepped back, and flicked his hair over his shoulder, then put his hands on his hips and started marching forward on the path that led out of the docks. He tried to make his hips swing a little, like most of the girls he knew did, but it wasn't easy. Maybe it was because his hips weren't built like theirs were, but with a little wiggling, it worked, and the long skirt sort of made it look at least vaguely natural. He pushed out his padded-with-a-rolled-up-pair-of-socks chest out, and marched out ahead of Riddick, like he owned the ground he walked on, like he was in control of the very air he breathed.

The other man followed him, but he didn't look back. Either he'd actually meet Riddick's eyes and completely break the facade by tripping or getting distracted, or else he'd just start laughing. In either case, it would make it clear as anything that he was not, in fact, a girl in an ugly dress, and the mercs that were looking for him were far more likely to find him that way.

Besides, he was trying to do the 'asskicking chick' thing. Asskicking chicks don't have to make sure their men are following them – they  _know_  their men are following them.

Slipping into the bar, he marched over to the bar itself, and leaned on the edge, smirking at the man behind it. Time to see if he pulled off this insane charade. “Hey there... I’m looking for someone to fix my ship. Caught some micro-asteroids on descent a few days back, see, and I need a reliable mechanic...”

The bartender frowned at him for a minute, then glanced at the door as Riddick stepped inside as well. “Yer husband can't fix it?”

Xander blinked at him for a moment, then laughed, and tried to sound like Buffy used to when she laughed at something particularly stupid he'd said, instead of braying like a donkey like he usually did. “Oh, he's not - “

“Mechanical.” Riddick interrupted, abruptly, making Xander jump slightly when the other dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Her husband isn't  _mechanical_.”

He flushed slightly, and smiled weakly. “He's more physical. I mean... not... like that. That sounded wrong.”

“Sounded right to me,” he drawled, and smirked when the bartender brayed with laughter exactly like Xander had been trying _not_  to. “The ship needs fixing, and my  _delicate_  flower of a wife insisted on hiring someone to do it right.”

Xander flushed even darker.

“Yer wife blushes awful pretty,” the bartender drawled.

It wasn't the dress, it really wasn't, but Xander  _did_  squirm closer to the taller, broader man. He felt  _vulnerable_ , and he was going to blame the fact that there was air drifting up his skirt, around his legs, and he felt all sorts of exposed. And Riddick, to his surprise, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him closer, like he really  _was_  a girl he wanted to keep close and safe. “Stay the fuck away from my wife.”

The man held up his hands, clearly surrendering. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Good.”

Xander swallowed, and said, as calmly and as girlishly as he could manage, “So where should we look for a mechanic?”

The bartender gave directions and a few names, and they stepped out of the bar again a few minutes later, heading back towards the docks. Xander tried to keep some semblance of the girlish walk going again, but he was having a harder time with it than before. Mostly because he couldn't quite wait until they were out of the way of the bar to laugh, and grab the front of Riddick's jacket, simpering playfully up at him, “My husband, the hero.”

“My wife, the bitch.” He drawled right back.

Xander laughed, grinning up at him. “You know, this girl thing is kinda fun. Except for the skirts. Skirts suck.”

“Like your legs in them, though,” Riddick smirked. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Xander blinked, following when the other man wrapped his hand around his wrist and tugged him along behind him, faster than before, til they were almost running, his sandals slapping against the bottoms of his feet as they dashed.

“To see if I can make you scream like a girl, too.”

“ _Oh_. Well. Carry on, then.”


	12. Leftovers

**Title** : Leftovers

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Fucking Machines

**Words** : 926

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

  
  
Xander did  _not_  like the look on Riddick's face.

He was uncomfortable enough with living in the personal chambers of the son of a bitch that had tried to kill them both several times over the last week or so,  _without_  Riddick laughing every time he found something “interesting” that the Lord Marshall, or perhaps a Lord Marshall before him had kept amongst his belongings. Xander was mostly just sitting on the bed and watching him, frowning. The children were sleeping next door, which was a  _rare_  thing, really, so he was more than willing to just curl up and go to sleep. Maybe have some sex first, depending on if Riddick stopped with the smirking laughter. He absolutely did _not_  want to know why Riddick was laughing.

“Bitch. C'mere.”

One look at Riddick's smirk was enough to tell Xander everything he needed to know. “Oh hell no. No. See, the look on your face right now? That's the exact reason why I am  _not_  coming over there, I am going to stay right here.”

“Come. Here.” He slapped the metal and dark wood cabinet that he stood beside.

He sighed, heavily, and rolled out of the bed, padding over towards his lover. He sort of wished he'd  _not_  stripped out of that stupid traditional-Furyan clothes he always seemed to be wearing these days, so that he'd be less  _exposed_ . You'd think sleeping with a guy for seven years would make you seriously comfortable around him, and most of the time, he was. When Riddick was standing beside a massive cabinet that sort of looked like a machine, and not like an actual  _cabinet_ , with a devious grin, that was a moment in which he felt entirely uncomfortable. “Okay, okay, King Shit... I'm here. Happy?”

Still smirking with a deviousness that freaked Xander out, he patted an oddly angled black leather bench at the end of the cabinet. “Here.”

“...either that is a bench designed for hunchbacks, or it's some... Lord Marshall's... sex bench... thing.” Xander crinkled his nose.

Riddick smirked, arching a single brow.

“...it  _is_  some Lord Marshall's sex bench thing.” He groaned. “Well... so much for a quiet night. Okay, I'll get on the damn sex bench thing you inherited... this keeping what you kill thing is getting _really_  creepy, by the way.” Still, he draped himself onto it, flushed, not entirely liking the way it stuck his ass in the air and let the blood rush fast to his head. “...this is probably the most awkward position you've ever gotten me into. And that includes the time in the cryo pod.  _And_ the time in the engine room.”

“I'm aware.” He drawled, and clipped metal cuffs that Xander hadn't even seen around his ankles and wrists, one by one. And ignored his lover's yelp of protest.

“Okay, I knew you were a kinky bastard, but cuffing me in place? You know I probably would have stayed here  _without_  you doing that. ....as crazy as that makes me. Yeah, that's pretty cra – oh holy shit, cold oil is  _cold_!”

Riddick just smirked, and worked at slicking Xander's ass up, whether the oil was cold or not.

A few minutes later, Xander had pretty much forgotten that he was grumpy at Riddick, or that he hated the position, or that he was displeased with being cuffed into his table, or that the oil had been cold. He was making soft, breathless cries, bucking back into the other's hand, fingers grabbing helplessly at the legs of the bench, gripping tightly. “Riddick...” he groaned. “Just... hurry up... fuck me, already...”

The next sound he heard didn't sound like Riddick getting ready to fuck him. It didn't sound like pants being pulled down, or anything. It sounded like someone turning a machine on, actually, a buzz-hum of gears coming to life, pistons pumping and pulleys... pulling. He supposed that was what pulleys did. Either way, it wasn't really what Xander was  _expecting_  to hear.

And what happened next certainly wasn't what he was  _ expecting _ to happen.

Something cold and hard and just a  _ little _  bigger than he was used to pressed steadily into him, and Xander arched, stunned, jaw dropping open. “Holy –  _ holy _  – Riddick!”

It kept pushing, deeper and deeper, until he was absolutely sure that he couldn't take any more, that his body couldn't possibly contain it, then it drew slowly back out at the exact same pace it'd pressed in. He relaxed over that bench, bonelessly, then arched when it started all over again. “Fuck, Riddick, what the  _ hell _  is that?!”

“A machine,” he smirked, resting his palm against Xander's lower back, sounding entirely amused by the sounds his younger lover was making.

He arched on the bench, fingernails digging into the wood of the bench legs, toes curling. “A machine made for  _ fucking _ someone?!”

Riddick crouched, smoothly, beside Xander, smirking as he cupped the other's jaw. Xander was flushed and panting, light headed and almost dizzy from the rush of blood to the brain, and every time the machine fucked him, he would buck, biting his lip. Watching the other's silver eyes dilate in pleasure, he said, “The machine ain't ever gonna stop, bitch. It's just gonna go, forever and ever, until I turn it off, and I get to  _ watch _ .”

“....kinky bastard.” Xander groaned, then licked his lips. “...does it go faster?”

He grinned, deviously. “It goes faster.”


	13. Practise Makes Perfect

**Title** : Practise Makes Perfect

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Freespace (Knifeplay)

**Words** : 609

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

 

  
  
Xander dropped to one knee, panting. There was blood on the blades he gripped in sweaty hands, but there was more blood on the blades that Riddick held almost lazily, like it was the most natural, easy thing in the world.

He braced himself on the floor for a moment, then glanced up when Riddick stepped closer.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m not terribly good at this yet.” He pushed himself up again, though still on one knee, flushed. He felt kind of stupid, all red faced and bloody, where Riddick's ulaks had caught his skin, tearing and ripping at his skin, ripping his clothes open. God, he was glad he hadn't worn a whole lot of clothes, he didn't exactly  _own_  a whole lot of clothes, and Riddick had kind of sliced through these ones. “I give, you're a better fighter than me, I’m the schmo kid with no talent. You're the genius killer. So yeah, do all the proving you – ack!”

Flopped back on the floor where Riddick had shoved him, Xander braced himself on his elbows. “What the  _hell_ , Riddick?!”

He arched a brow, and crouched quickly beside Xander.

Swallowing, he squirmed back across the floor, trying to look non-threatening. “Um... Riddick? What's the deal?”

He smirked, and slid one of the ulaks under the bottom hem of Xander's tank top, sliding it upwards towards his neck. It parted the material with a slight tearing sound, and he yelped, startled. “Oi, this is the only tank top I  _have_  remember? You cut my clothes, and I’m going to start stealing your clothes! Your sweater is  _so_ mine, now.”

Riddick smirked, again, and flicked the blade at Xander's chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath, startled, as blood blossomed on his pale sun-starved skin, welling up, crimson bright and iron rich. “What the hell - ?”

And then the other man leaned over him, running the flat of his tongue along the length of the wound, cleaning the blood off of his skin.

Xander gaped at him. “...Riddick?”

The other man ran the pad of his thumb along that same wound again, then sucked the traces of the blood off of it, thoughtfully. He had a very contemplative expression, like he wasn't quite sure what to make of Xander, but apparently he decided he liked the taste of him, because he leaned even closer, and flicked at Xander's chest with the ulak again.

He sucked in a sharp breath, confused. He  _should_  be freaking out.

But Riddick was leaning over him again, licking and sucking at the wounds, like a vampire trying to draw precious life giving liquid from his skin. And yeah, it should bother him, but it felt  _good_ , it felt pretty damn amazing. It stung a little, but the slick slide of Riddick's tongue, the brush of his lips, the scrape of teeth against the edges of the wounds themselves more than distracted him. It separated the pain and the pleasure for a moment, then mashed them back together into one wonderful, glorious thing that was both agony and joy, excruciating and exhilarating.

Riddick drew the blade along Xander's collarbone, and he arched up into the glorious separation of his skin. It was like a release, everything bubbling to the surface, to be lapped up and consumed by the other's rough-gentle mouth.

“Fuck, Riddick - !” he gasped, writhing.

He bit down over one of the wounds, drawing blood with his teeth, and Xander cried out, clutching at the other's shoulders. He'd train with Riddick all day, every day, if this was the results.


	14. Number

**Title** : Number

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Tattoos/Tattooing

**Words** : 578

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

 

  
 Riddick had a number.

It took Xander years to find it, and honestly, in what, five years together, he was surprised he hadn't noticed it  _yet_. But there it was, on his upper thigh, just in the crease of where his leg met his torso, hidden by clothing or by movement or by darkness. But Xander had gotten good at seeing things in the dark that others couldn't, and one day, when Riddick happened to be lying on the bed instead of just getting up and moving around and  _doing_ something after sex, he finally noticed it.

He trailed his fingers over the tattoo for a few moments, memorizing it, then looked up, and asked, “What is this from?”

_That_ , unfortunately, led to Riddick shoving his hands away and climbing out of the bed, and heading off to “do something”. Again.

It wasn't until he was on Lupus Five and living amongst the mercenaries that he finally found out what the number meant – it was a Company marking, like the space military equivalent of dog tags. It was the number that Riddick had been given when he'd joined the Company, a good, hardworking young man, that wanted to earn his place in the 'verse.

And he couldn't get it out of his mind.

Which was why he was sitting in that massive metal and leather chair, head back against the little, torn up headrest, trying not to watch as the tattoo-covered woman sitting in front of him worked with a needle, engraving black ink into his skin, into the crease of his thigh and torso.

It stung, mostly because it was in a sensitive spot, but also because it was his first tattoo. He supposed he wasn't really  _ready_ for it.

Or for the fact that it hurt less in a painful way and more in a tingling dizzying sort of pleasureable way.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Xander looked up, sharply, startled.

Riddick stood over his shoulder, frowning.

“Uh...” He glanced at Riddick, then glanced at the tattoo artist, blinking. She looked up, arched a brow at him as if to say 'what is your problem, I'm working', and went right back to what she was doing. “...what are you doing here?” He asked his lover, a little stunned. He thought Riddick had left the  _planet_  already, he had sort of thought he'd been left behind again. Not that he  _minded_ , sure, but...

“That's my number.”

Xander cleared his throat, swallowing. “...yeah. That's... your number.”

Riddick squeezed his shoulder, again. Hard. “You are getting my number tattooed on you. Are you aware of what you are doing?”

“Um.” Xander said. “Yes. I think so.”

He leaned closer to him, speaking quietly, so quietly that Xander had to strain to hear him over the buzzing of the tattooist's needle, to make sure that his words didn't just melt into the mechanical hum that was leaving the marks on his skin. “That's  _my_  number. My name. Everything I  _own_  has that number engraved in it, bitch.”

“Good. That's what I thought.” Xander grinned up at him, flushed.

“Oh?” His lover drawled.

“Done,” the woman said, sitting back, wiping his new, stark, black number.

“Yeah.” He said, licking his lips. “...it means I belong to you now.”

“You always did.” Riddick smirked.

“ _Hot_.” The tattooist said.

Xander whole-heartedly agreed.


	15. Weapon

**Title** : Weapon

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Object Penetration

**Words** : 642

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

  
  
 Xander had learned to have an intimate relationship with his weapons.

They were everything to a man like him, now, because the blades, the bullets, were his lifeline. Without them, there was a very good chance that he would never walk out of wherever he was at the time. Making weapons on the fly was now not just something he sort of did when he couldn't grab something else, it became a life saving skill that he absolutely could not do without, and shivs and stakes were as easy to make for him as breathing was.

He hadn't quite expected to have  _this_ intimate of a relationship, though.

Clutching at Riddick's shoulders, he bucked when the other man pressed the handle of the ulak further into his ass, gasping. “Son of a – Riddick...”

The other man just growled slightly, grinning up at him. And thrust a little harder with the handle, gripping the flat of the blade itself so that he could hold it, seeming to enjoy the way his lover was absolutely falling apart under his ministrations, clutching desperately at his shoulders every time he dragged the leather bound handle slowly out of him, then pressed it right back. Riddick was doing it tortuously slow, of course, because that was what Riddick did, and he loved when his younger lover bucked against him, gasping.

Biting his lip, he panted, “C'mon, Riddick, if you're gonna fuck me with a knife, can't you just...  _fuck_  me with the thing?”

He nipped at that lip, smirking. “Impatient.”

“Yes, goddammit, I  _am_  impatient, I just want you to  _fuck_  me, dammit, stop teas~oo~oh!” He arched up when Riddick twisted his wrist, fingernails digging into the other's muscular shoulders, eyes rolling right back into his head.

Laughing, Riddick shifted Xander forward on his lap, and growled in his ear, “What is your weapon?”

He groaned, pressing his forehead into the side of the other's neck, squeezing around the leather handle when Riddick pressed it deeper. It was harder than it was when Riddick fucked him himself, and though it wasn't quite as  _ large _  as Riddick himself, it had an entirely different feel when he pressed it into him, all slick and messy, but hard and unyielding, just opening him right up to the other man, an unrelenting press that seemed determined to drive him mad. “...seriously, we're doing – doing this right in the m-middle of  _ sex _ ?”

“What's your weapon, bitch?”

He groaned, bucking when Riddick thrust the knife handle in, biting his lip. “I – I am my own weapon, because an object can't be... mmm... can't be depended on...”

“Sure you can't depend on this?” Riddick smirked, twisting his wrist slightly.

“Nnngh... I can trust you to fuck me senseless with it, apparently...” he moaned, bucking again, biting his lip, hard. “Oh, god, Riddick...”

He kissed the side of the younger man's neck, nipping lightly at the soft skin, pressing the knife handle deeper into him. It wasn't just that he was fucking the boy, because as much as he  _ liked _  doing that, it didn't normally make him grin quite like this. This was _ tempting _ , far more than it would be, normally, because Riddick always liked his weapons, always liked using them on those around him – and he was still doing that, even now, just in a different way.

“Know what that means?” he growled in Xander's ear.

He groaned, arching slightly. “N-no, what?”

“I'm fucking my favourite weapon with my second favourite weapon,” he grinned, nipping hard at his jaw.

Xander groaned, pathetically. “...fuck...”

Laughing, a deep rumbling in his chest, Riddick picked up the speed that Xander had been complaining about, fucking him harder, pleased when the boy cried out, happily, clutching at his shoulders.


	16. Diplomatic Missions

**Title** : Diplomatic Missions

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Sex Toys (Under the Clothing)

**Words** : 675

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick  
 

  
Xander was absolutely sure that everyone knew.

They  _had_  to know, how could they not? He was walking sort of awkwardly, and his was flushed bright red, and... well, they just had to know. If  _he_  had seen him walking around with a bright red face and a strange sort of bow-legged walk, he was pretty sure  _he_ would have thought of it. But maybe he just had a dirty mind, or was looking at too much linoleum or something.

Or maybe they all knew and were just doing their damndest to be polite.

Oh god, maybe that was it. With his luck, the rest of his species were actually some kind of telepaths, and they all  _knew_  what he was trying very hard to hide.

So Xander tried to walk a little straighter, a little more  _normal_ , but the stupid leather pants he was wearing were really tight, and when he walked more “normal”, the very tight ass of the very tight leather pants actually made that goddamn glass...  _thing_  that Riddick had somehow got his hands on somewhere press even harder into his ass. So he walked a little funny and hoped to all hell that everyone around him couldn't tell that under his Furyan royal gear, he had a hard, clear glass dildo shoved in his ass.

“Lavelle Xander,” Vaako hurried towards him, frowning slightly. “You are late.”

“Stop with the Lavelle,” he ordered, automatically, clearing his throat. “Just Xander, remember? So what am I late for, again?”

“The Lord Marshall  _did_ tell you, correct?” He arched a single brow, looking Xander up and down, which made him flush even brighter red and shift carefully, hoping to all hell that it wasn't obvious that there was, in fact, something in his ass. He really should have chosen a different pair of pants. Or, you know, insisted that Riddick not, in fact, put a dildo in his ass, but when his mate grinned and said something about how very much it would turn him on to know he had something hard in his ass all day... well, he did it. Kind of gleefully at the time, kind of regretfully, now. Shame. It had been a really fun idea at the time. “There is a delegation of the Elementals coming to discuss peace with the new Furyan empire... they want to meet with the Lord Marshall and the Lavelle.”

Xander gaped at his friend – or as close to a friend as he got, these days. “...please tell me you're kidding.”

“That is an unrefined look,” he said, firmly, frowning. “I thought you were working on playing the part more thoroughly. Close your mouth. And I can assure you that no, I am not  _kidding_. I am being quite serious, now... let us go.”

“...we're at least having this delegation in some private meeting room, or something, right?” He asked, clearing his throat, awkwardly. He still followed his tall and impressively dangerous looking friend, that damn dildo shifting just a little every time he took a step, which made him flushed even darker red. It felt good, sure, but... holy  _shit_  he hoped he at least had a table in front of him, so he could hide any reaction to this his body came up with.

“It is in the throne room. At your mate's insistence.” He glanced at Xander, frowning slightly.

“...of course it is.” He groaned.

And  _now_  Xander knew exactly why it was that Riddick had insisted that  _today_  was the day that he really, really needed to put a glass dildo up his ass and demand he left it there all day.

Oh he was  _so_  going to make him pay.

In spades.

....possibly with a whole lot of sex, to make him pay for torturing him like this. Because oh  _yes_ , he'd done this to torture him, he knew it.

At least it felt good.

But he was  _so_  going to get him back for this.


	17. Smooth

**Title** : Smooth

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Shaving/Depilation

**Words** : 708

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

  
  
When Xander had clambered out of bed that morning, reluctant, and for once earlier than his taciturn companion, he'd slid his fingertips across Riddick's scalp. He liked his companion's head, all surprisingly soft and supple considering how rough and hard the other man was. But his head wasn't the baby soft smooth that it usually was, it was... stubbly. And more than the usual day or two stubble, too, it was full on scruff.

...yuck.

Riddick looked entirely amused, actually, as Xander gathered up a large bowl of hot water, a tube of engine lubricant – he would have rathered it was shaving cream or something, but you did what you had to – a towel, and a shiv. It was a patient sort of expression, but definitely amused.

“All right, sit still, mister tall dark and man-killer,” Xander grinned, and set all of his “equipment” on the edge of the bed.

“Cut me, and I cut you.” He said, calmly.

“Oh, so what, this is becoming an exercise in seeing how well you've trained me with a knife?” He smirked, and squeezed some of the thick, black engine grease onto his fingers, and squirmed up behind Riddick on the bed, kneeling behind him, his chest against the other's back as he worked. Spreading the grease across the other's scalp, he watched as it caught in the little, coarse hairs, making them stand on end. He worked, carefully, spreading it from the top of the other's forehead down to the nape of his neck, around his ears, trying to make it vaguely even. He would like to pretend that he knew how to do this because he used this setup to shave his face, but Xander hadn't really ever had the need to shave. He was kind of baby faced still, shamefully. But back in high school, back when he'd joined that damn swim team to try and find out why members were being skinned on the beach, he'd done a little too much shaving to try and look like a proper swimmer. Not that he was about to  _admit_  it.

“Yes.” He said, as calmly as ever.

Xander grinned a little, and took the shiv, carefully sliding it along the other man's scalp. He had to get it close enough to leave bare skin, but not close enough that he cut Riddick. He knew without a doubt that if he cut him, he  _would_  get the cuts returned.

That first smooth slide across the other's scalp left a pale white stripe in the centre of the dark grease, smooth and hairless and perfect. Riddick's natural state seemed to be hairless, that was the natural way he should be, it was like he was peeling back layers of wear to reveal the real man beneath. Dipping the shiv in the hot water, he watched as the grease and short stubbly hair drifted away in the water, leaving the blade clean and sharp and clear again, then swiped it across his thigh, drying most of the liquid off on his pants.

He licked his lips, then slid the blade across Riddick's scalp again, again, and again. It was a hypnotic sort of thing, a slick slide then flicking the blade in the water, wiping it on his pants and starting again. Strip by strip the other man's scalp was freed of the grease, freed of the layer of falseness that was the hair trying to grow in.

Xander didn't even realize he was done until he realized that he'd slid the blade over places that had no stubble left several times over.

Flushed, he dropped the shiv in the bowl of water to let the last traces wash away off the blade, and ran his fingers lightly over the other's newly smooth scalp, then ran the towel over as well, wiping off the last traces of the mess, making sure there weren't any traces of prickles left.

“Satisfied?” Riddick rumbled, and Xander hesitated.

He pressed his lips to the back of the other's scalp for a moment, then admitted. “Not really. Got anything else that needs shaving?”

And he grinned when Riddick's laugh rumbled right through the back he was pressed into.


	18. Alter-Egos

**Title** : Alter-Egos

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Gangbang

**Words** : 1085

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick 

  
  
 “You know who you look like?” Xander had said once, to Riddick, in the after glow of amazing sex. Well, all of their sex was amazing. But that one particular time, he had turned to his lover, lightly brushing his fingers over the other's hairless scalp, and murmured, “Like this one actor... he does all these movies with cars and explosions and stuff.”

“You talk too much,” Riddick had said, and rolled over to pin him to the bed, and proceeded to make him shut up.

But he couldn't get the idea out of his head. He really  _did_  look like that actor, though he couldn't remember the guy's name for the life of him... he'd seen a lot of his movies though. Buffy totally had a thing for him, and in retrospect, it might have been the absolutely gorgeous muscles that made Xander willing to sit through them. That guy had done a lot of roles, hadn't he? A guy who raced cars and stole things and was sleeping with some undercover cop guy, if he remembered the plot right. Some other guy who raced cars and motorcyles and did super extreme sports while trying to thwart the Russian mafia. There had been some other post-apocalyptic quasi-military guy, also thwarting Russian mobs. That guy really seemed to have a thing about the Russian mafia.

The thing that got him, though, was that they were all bald and sort of grumpy, and they all growled the way Riddick did, that deep, rumbling voice that sent tremors straight down Xander's spine and into his dick.

And oh  _hell_ , it was the geekiest, dorkiest thing in the world, but Xander started fantasizing what sleeping what any of those men would be like, if they were, well,  _real_ .

After all, maybe Riddick was a fluke. Maybe he only wanted him cause of the whole circumstances.

So what if he tried picturing other guys.

But the problem was, every time he tried to think about what it would be like to sleep with, say, Dom, in the back seat of his car, it turned into a fantasy of having  _Riddick_  fuck him in the back seat of his black Dodge Charger. He tried to imagine sleeping with Xander – and wasn't  _that_  funny – on that hideous fur coat he'd been wearing in the mountains, but that definitely turned into an amazing fantasy of furs and Riddick. Which, okay, yeah, he was totally cool with fantasizing about his man. But wasn't the whole _point_  of fantasies imagining being with someone you couldn't really have?

But he had an idea. Maybe.

Xander flopped down on the little bed that he and Riddick usually shared, braced his hands on his stomach, and closed his eyes.

Feeling a little silly, he took another deep breath. He was pretty sure that fantasizing wasn't supposed to be like work, but usually when he was doing it back home, he'd just be doing almost anything, and get a flash of something amazing, like Buffy eating a banana, or Angelina Jolie laying on a park bench begging for him, or the girl from that one pizza commercial they played all the time sitting on a kitchen counter in just a frilly little apron.

But this time, he just imagined the idea of lying there, on that bed on their little shuttle, and pictured Dom stepped into the room.

He tried to imagine witty small talk, or clever banter, but gave up when he couldn't think of a single clever thing he'd say to a guy that loved cars more than people, and when he tried to imagine what Dom might say, it just sounded like one of Riddick's growls, and that was, well, counter-productive. So he went with the smarter route – he just sort of threw himself into the fantasy. And that meant imagining being up on his hands and knees while a hot, muscled, strong body curled over him, fucking him hard.

And sure, he wasn't actually being fucked, but Xander had been fucked often enough to be able to imagine the feeling well, and groaned, biting his lip. He could practically feel the other's breath hot on his neck, could imagine the other's chest pressed into his back.

“Riddick...” he groaned, arching up on the bed, imagining that.

No, wait.  _Not_  Riddick, it was supposed to be  _not_  Riddick, that was the whole idea. He already got to fuck Riddick. He was supposed to be fantasizing about other guys. So he took a deep breath, and tried to pictured Xander Cage walking in, naked except for that goddamn ugly fur coat, moving over to the bed with that lazy swagger.

He swallowed, imagining that he was swallowing around the daredevil's cock, picturing the thought of being fucked in the ass by one gorgeous muscled bald man while another fucked his mouth.

Fuck, he loved sucking Riddick off, and even if it was just fantasy...

No, wait.  _Not_  Riddick.

Son of a  _bitch_ .

Okay, maybe all he needed was a post-apocalyptic military man. That wasn't much different from what Riddick was, really, but the guy he was trying to add to the fantasy was... well, he was basically Riddick in Russia, but at least his name was ridiculous and he'd never be able to mentally get them confused. So yeah, he threw Toorop into the little fantasy menage-a-...four, was it, now? He pictured the man laying on his back on the bed, half beneath him, and tried to imagine what it would feel like if that man gave him a blow-job.

It was a  _nice_  thought, a  _really_  nice thought, to imagine one man curled over him, in him, one fucking his mouth, one sucking at his own dick like he would be sucking... only it wasn't Dom and Xander and Toorop, was it, it was somehow three Riddick's, and he didn't even know how it was possible but he wasn't fantasizing for the logic of it, he was fantasizing for the hotness of it.

And fuck yes, it  _was_  hot.

If he could clone Riddick and make his fantasy a reality... son of a bitch, he'd never leave the bedroom. Ever.  _Ever_ .

Xander groaned, and squirmed off the bed, panting.

He had to track down Riddick, get him to fuck him, suck him, then let him suck  _him_ , then he'd find some way of stitching the three of those together in his mind. God, he needed three Riddick's. Desperately. 


	19. Civilization

**Title** : Civilization

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Watersports

**Words** : 953

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

 

  
  
“Shit... Riddick, there is no  _civilization_ out here.”

The taller man glanced at Xander, who glared back, flushed. The suns were pounding down on them, relentlessly, and there was dust and sand in every tiny crevice of his skin, his clothes, his hair. He wanted nothing else than to be off this dustball of a planet, but the Hunter-Gratzner would never take to the skies again, and if Johns got his way, neither Xander nor Riddick would get off, either. Naturally, they were spying on the other survivors, but they were still out in the desert, hiding amongst the bones of the massive alien animal graveyard, and not amongst the few houses of the little settlement. “So?”

“So...  _I_ need to go to the  _bathroom_.”

“You haven't even drank anything.” Riddick pointed out, frowning.

Well, that was true. Xander hadn't had any of the whiskey or the wine that Paris had been offering, earlier, but of course, it was hard to explain to Riddick  _why_  exactly he hadn't drank anything. He was no expert or anything, but he was pretty sure that alcohol when you were pregnant? Bad idea. But unfortunately, that pregnancy issue was probably the same reason why he  _really_  needed to go to the bathroom even though he'd essentially not eaten or drank anything in two years.

Cryo fucked up his sense of time. Cause he could remember having a good hearty meal before he climbed on the ship – _yesterday_ . But the calender told him it had been two years ago. His  _bladder_ , though, was certain that it was yesterday, because it was fair to bursting.

“ _Seriously_. Riddick.” Flushed, Xander hissed, “I  _really_  have to go to the bathroom.”

“So do it.” He shrugged.

He gaped at him, then waved to the spreading desert in front of them. “And where,  _ exactly _ , do you suggest I do that?!”

Riddick turned to face Xander, properly, arching a brow. “You're kidding.”

“I am  _ not _  kidding, I do  _ not _  see a bathroom. All I see is a giant desert, and no where in this world to go to the bathroom, and dammit, Riddick, if I don't go soon, my bladder is going to _ explode _ , and  _ that _  is going to be gross.”

“Urine is sterile.” He said, clearly not seeing the problem.

“I meant gross in the I-don't-want-to-piss-my-pants way, not in the... actually...  _ gross _  way, though if you ask me, it's still not a good thing, come on. We have to go into town or something. I need a bathroom.”

He sighed heavily, and held out a hand, frowning. “C'mere.”

“Riddick, you are not the town, and you are not a bathroom.” He muttered, flushed. “Come on, I need to get to an actual... facilities, before I piss my pants.” It was awkward, trying to move, anyway, because he was afraid if he moved too much, he really  _ was _  going to pee his pants. When he was back at home, he used to make jokes that days like this were days he needed a clothespin to pinch on the end of his dick, so he wouldn't accidentally piss his pants.

“Come. Here.” He said, firmly, brows furrowed over his goggles.

Sighing softly, Xander half stood, and walked over to his lover, taking the other man's hand, reluctantly. “Okay, okay, I'm here.”

Holding Xander's hand, firmly, as though trying to prevent him from bolting away, Riddick used his other hand to unbuckle Xander's pants, then tug his pants down to his knees.

Flushed, Xander muttered, “I don't think now is the time and place for sex.”

He arched a brow, and tugged Xander down into his lap, twisting him as he did, so that the younger man landed with an  _ oof _  of surprise on Riddick's thighs, and he shifted the hand he'd been holding Xander's hand with to press it to his chest, instead, holding the younger man in place in his lap. Nudging the other's thighs apart, Riddick curled his fingers around the other's penis, ignoring his squawk of protest. “All right. I gotcha. Go.”

“ _ Go _ ? Go where?” He twisted to try and look up at him, eyes widening sharply. “You mean to the  _ bathroom _ ?!”

Riddick arched a single brow, waiting.

Xander squeaked. “...um. But I'm sitting in your lap, and you're um... holding onto... you want me to pee. Right here. Right now? In the  _ sand _ , with you... that would get really messy, Riddick.”

“Go.” He said, again, stroking his fingers teasingly up and down the other's dick, deliberately mixing the pleasure of being touched with the pressing, agonizing need to urinate. And yes, Xander arched and gasped under his touch, letting out a stream of half-gasped curses, but he kept working, stroking. “Just let go.”

And Xander did, finally, groaning softly as he finally went, yellow urine splashing on the sand between their legs, pooling on the ground and making a dark wet spot, little droplets occasionally hitting their calves, steaming slightly as hot liquid hit the even hotter sand.

Riddick kept stroking as he went, watching quietly, teasing lightly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Xander slumped back against his chest, panting softly, and closed his eyes. “...well. That... was... holy shit.”

“Toldja so.”

“You told me nothing,” he groaned softly, shivering as Riddick kept stroking. The other man's hand was wet on his dick, and it wasn't before, so he knew it  _ had _  to be traces of his own urine on the other's fingers and palms, which was dirty as shit, but... they shared everything, didn't they? Of course they shared this.


	20. Trust

**Title** : Trust

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Sensory Deprivation

**Words** : 703

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

 

  
  
Xander had never seen anything like Riddick's eyes. There were silver depths within them that reminded him of the mirrored backs of cat's eyes, and every little faint glimpse of light caught in that mirrored darkness, reflecting back at Xander. Those eyes could see in the dark, could see the faint traces of heat that people's hands left behind, could see the veins under people's skin, could see their heart beat in their throat. Riddick's eyes were sharp and primal.

But they were also an unfair advantage, far as Xander was concerned.

The ship was always dark, because Riddick hated wearing his goggles – which was something Xander couldn't really blame him for, if he had to wear goggles or glasses or something all the time, he would hate wearing them too – so that the convict could see easily. But Xander kept stubbing his toes, running into instrument panels, and Riddick just kept laughing at him when it happened. Not funny.

“If you expect me to trust you,” Xander said, stubbornly, “Then you have to trust me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Just... seriously. Trust me for  _once_.” He rolled his eyes, and stepped closer to Riddick. He supposed he was just going to have to trust that Riddick wasn't going to stab him. He slid the leather band down over Riddick's eyes, and smirked slightly when the other just let out a hard, frustrated sigh, tightening it carefully. “Can you see anything?”

“Do I look like I can see anything?”

“That was  _not_  what I asked, Riddick.” He rolled his eyes, and stood on his toes to kiss him, lightly, just a bare brush of lips on lips. “Can you see anything?”

“No.” He said, finally.

Xander smiled, and ran his fingers down the other's arms, lightly. Riddick was a killing machine, a man designed to destroy. And central in that destruction was his ability to see in the dark, his ability to track the slightest movement without even turning his head. But he had just given that up, had just sacrificed his most potent weapon because Xander wanted him to.

He swallowed, and took Riddick's hands, squeezing the callused palms. “Still can't see?”

“I'm in the dark.” He said, bluntly.

Smirking, he stepped back, pulling Riddick along with him, leading him down the hall. Riddick followed, and of course the man didn't stumble, even though he couldn't see, but his hands were tight on Xander's, and he walked less smoothly, less naturally than he usually did.

He hit the light switch with his elbow, and the cabin lights flared to life, like a spotlight slamming down on their heads – and Riddick didn't even flinch. Light was painful for the convict, it caused him physical pain, but he was blind right now, and dependent on Xander to show him where to go. And for once, Xander got to see his lover in full  _light_ . It was something entirely... amazing.

Squeezing Riddick's hands, he led him into the storage hold, fascinated by the play of the bright light on his convict lover's normally darkness shrouded body.

“If you're trying to get me lost, don't forget that I  _have_  other senses.”

“I'm aware,” Xander smirked. “But you see like a heat-seeking missile, and right now... you have to trust me. I can see you properly for once.”

“I can still 'see' you,” he drawled, catching his fingers in the front of Xander's shirt, and jerking him forward. “You're turned on by this.”

“Yeah, actually.” He reached up, running his thumbs along the front of the leather blindfold, just hard enough that he could feel the softness of the other's eyelids under it, but not hard enough to cause any pain. “I'm your eyes right now, Riddick. You have your other senses still, but I... I am your eyes.”

“And where are my eyes guiding me?” He smirked.

“Into a trap,” he laughed, leaning up to kiss him, firmly. “Where I get to worship your body in bright light and you have to just trust that I'm watching out for you.”

“Then start watching, bitch.”


	21. Shopping Spree

**Title** : Shopping Spree

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Chastity Devices

**Words** : 672

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

  
  
Shopping in California versus shopping on Richter 3 was a very different experience. In California, Xander would have dug some of his crumpled up bills from under his mattress, where he hid them not from his family, but mostly from himself – it was like surprise money, when you cleaned your room and unexpectedly found money, even though it was yours, it was like a present – and he would have headed to Walmart or Target or something and picked up what he wanted, then lugged it home.

On Richter 3, he carefully counted the little stack of platinum UDs he had shoved in a little bag, then headed through the rows of merchants in the little marketplace, which looked like something out of Arabian Nights or something, and picked over things he'd never seen before in his life and usually had no idea what their purpose was. It was like he'd walked into an episode of Xena or something.

All he  _wanted_  was a pair of goggles. The ones he'd gotten from Riddick had gotten one of the lenses cracked, and if he could just find replacement glass, that would work, but he doubted that. Really, were some kind of welder's goggles or something really  _so_ hard to find?

Riddick's hand rested lightly on the back of his neck, and Xander glanced up, frowning. “Why can't I find goggles?”

“The rest of the verse isn't light sensitive,” he smirked slightly. He was wearing a massive hooded cloak that seemed to embrace him in shadows, and with the deepness of the hood and the goggles, Riddick was shrouded in darkness. Xander didn't really think it was fair, that Riddick managed to look absolutely kickass all the time, and  _he_  just looked like a dork. “You're moving into interesting territory.”

“Interesting territory?” He blinked at him, then glanced at the booth they were standing near. The table was scattered with all sorts of bizarrely shaped devices, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what they  _were_. “I don't get it.”

The merchant behind the counter shook her head slightly, smirking, like she figured it wasn't worth explaining if Xander couldn't figure it out.

“No, really.”

Xander picked up one of the things, twisting and turning it over in his hands. It was made of some kind of metal, very light, but also very solid. There was a ring at the bottom that seemed to seperate from the rest of the device, and the rest was a curved metal “sheath”, though what it was for, he hadn't the foggiest. “What the hell is this for, Riddick?”

The other man took it out of his hands, calmly, and held it up. “Does it look like anything in particular?”

“Uh... no, not really?” He shrugged, frowning slightly.

He took a step closer to Xander, and held up the metal ring. “Picture this right around your  _bits_ , bitch.”

He blinked. “...around...  _those_  bits?”

Riddick nodded, and fit the rest of the device to the ring, without a word.

The younger man gaped at the metal thing, eyes wide. “...and  _that_ part goes around the –  _oh_ . Um. Why in the verse would anyone want to put a metal thing around their dick?” He said bluntly. “Because that doesn't look like the sort of thing you can just... take of. You'd have to  _keep_  it on!”

“That, bitch,” Riddick drawled, “Is the point.”

He blinked at it, confused. “...why would I  _want_  that?”

Hooking his fingers in Xander's shirt, Riddick tugged him right up against his chest, and growled, “It's not what you want, it's what  _I_ want. To get you hot and bothered and more turned on than you have been in your  _life_ , and you can't touch yourself, you just have to take what I give you and  _wish_  that you could touch yourself.”

“Oh.” Xander swallowed, hard. “ _That_ 's why I want it.”

  
 


	22. Soaking Wet

**Title:**  Soaking Wet   
**Fandom:**  Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover   
**Kink:** Wet/Dirty/Messy   
**Picspam**   
**Characters:** Xander and Riddick   
  
  
  
Various pictures of Xander and Riddick, both soaking wet. Because soaking wet is  _joy_ .   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	23. Gore

**Title** : Gore

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Bloodplay

**Words** : 595

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick (implied)

  
  
Xander was dripping with blood.

None of it was his.

Blood was running in rivulets down his jaw, dropping from his hair, sliding teasingly down his throat, pooling on his collarbone, in his navel, dripping off his fingers to drop drip by drip into the lake of blood that covered the floor, and each barefoot step he took, the blood squished between his toes, leaving blood footprints that slowly filled back in. He was a macabre mess, skin and teeth stained red, his one eye almost startlingly silver against the crimson uniformity of his blood covered skin.

It was the blood of his enemies. Necromongers – those that hadn't had a blue glowing handprint on their chests, those that hadn't been a Furyan under it all. He'd taken great pleasure in their destruction. Every arterial gush, every spray of blood that had hit him had just pushed his joy higher and higher. He was ecstatic right now, really, and for the very first time, he finally understood what  _ecstasy_  really meant. Every step he took, the blood was slick and wet under his feet. It wasn't like walking in water, it was thicker, stickier. Something like oil, but it smelled of iron and salt and when he ran his tongue over his lips, he caught the taste of it again.

Running his hand through his hair, droplets scattered around him, shaken off of his curls, which hung heavy and wet around him, anyway. The blood was starting to dry in his bangs, and locks of hair hung in his eyes, dried into spikes, stiff and crunchy to the touch.

He'd been bloody before. It was hard to be the spiritual leader of a species devoted to war and  _not_  get bloody now and again. That was part of what made him a Lavelle, the thirst for blood was hardwired into his DNA.

What Xander hadn't expected was a literal  _lust_  for blood.

Crouching, he ran his fingers along the intricately detailed mosaic floor, catching the pooled blood where it gathered in the crevices between tiles, and lifted his hands, smearing it over his face. He was already bloody, but it was perfect, smearing the sticky blood over his lips, over his eyelids, down his jaw. He revelled in it, drew in the metallic scent of the mess, lapping some of it up from his palm. His skin seemed to tingle, and he bent again, gathering a palm-full of blood up from a recessed dip in the tiled floor, and ran his hand up his arm, stroking the lifeblood along his skin like he was bathing in it.

He felt like he was flying.

_This_  was ecstasy. His lungs burning, his heart pounding too hard, and he felt  _alive_ , more alive than he had ever felt before.

He enjoyed the stickiness, enjoyed that he was being covered in it, but what made it better was that it was  _blood_ . Sure, if it had been honey or oil or something, he would have had fun playing in it. But it was  _blood_ , and that was why he dropped to his knees, then onto his stomach, just pressing his belly, his hands, his chest, his face, into the sticky slick of blood, which was still slightly warm, just a mimicry of still being inside a human body. It was the blood of his enemies, and maybe it was like the Aztecs eating the heart of their enemies to gain their strength, but he loved having it around him, covering him.

He'd destroyed them, and they surrounded him now.


	24. Tie me Up, Tie me Down

**Title:**  Tie me up, Tie me down   
**Fandom:**  Chronicles of Riddick   
**Kink:**  Bondage (Other)   
**Picspam**   
**Character:**  Riddick   
  
  
  
I am a fan of Riddick in all of his incredibly varied stories, and throughout all of them, Riddick seems to get tied up/down in all sorts of  _very_  creative ways.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	25. Rich

**Title** : Rich

**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick/Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover

**Kink** : Orgies/Decadence

**Words** : 938

**Pairing** : Xander/Riddick

  
  
Trailing his fingers down Riddick's leather-clad leg, Xander squirmed a little more into the silken sheets and pillow-soft mattress itself, considering the play of the flickering candle light on the creases and folds of the butter soft black leather. The other man wore nothing else, of course, because that seemed to be what he liked, these days, leather pants and bare chest and feet, but Xander certainly didn't mind a bit.

“Enjoying yourself?” Riddick rumbled, and Xander looked up, grinning.

“Yeah, actually. You look good in leather.”

He snorted.

“You do! I look like an absolute dork, but what do you do? Stuff does feel nice,” he paused for a moment, running his palms down his own leather-clad chest, thoughtfully. It felt...  _luxurious_. Like somehow, just by wearing it, he was one-upping all of those high class bitches he'd gone to school with in California.

“Does,” Riddick smirked, reaching up to pluck one of the long feathers out of Xander's hair.

“Oi. Vaako says I need those.” Xander snorted, fingers curled on the other's leather-clad thigh, rubbing at the creases where his leg met his hip with his thumb-pad, loving the feel of the material itself. “Something to do with royalty wearing feathers, or something. I don't know why anyone would. I mean, what am I, king of the bird people? I thought I was the prince regent of the Furyans, not the seagulls.”

The other smirked again, a crooked twitch of the corner of his lips, and ran his fingertips along the length of the feather, thoughtfully.

“I mean, I would think all this fanciness has got to help people know we're royalty, too, you know? I’ve never worn clothes  _this_ nice before, and this whole room is huge and gorgeous and holy crap, I’ve never slept in a bed like  _this_  before.”

“You talk too much,” Riddick drawled.

“Uh, yeah, you've been with me, what, seven years now? You haven't noticed by now?” Xander rolled onto his back, spreading his arms out like wings, stretching on the gorgeous, rich sheets. It was like rolling around on a cloud made of sex, or something, the silk sheets slid against his skin, catching lightly on his clothes, bunching and gathering. Those little bunches weren't irritating like fabric bunches usually were, they just created new levels of smooth, slick fabric to slide his skin against. It was the sort of thing he'd love to roll around naked on, just to feel the smoothness  _all_ over. It was even better than the leather – though he did like when he was rolling naked all over leather that Riddick was wearing. “I always talk - “

Riddick shoved an apple in his mouth.

Xander yelped, instinctively biting down on the fruit to prevent the other from pushing it deeper in his mouth, not that it was really possible to do that, because as much as Xander talked  _way_  too much, his mouth wasn't really  _that_  big. But that was apparently what Riddick had wanted, because he grinned, mischievously, and patted his cheek.

Grumbling, he reached up to take the apple out of his teeth, but Riddick just slapped his fingers away.

So he glowered at him, grumpily. Riddick seemed to like laughing at him. This wasn't the first time he'd tried to gag him, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but it sure as hell was the first time he'd tried to gag him with an  _apple_ . It was messy! All he could taste was apple juice, and he had to keep swallowing to prevent himself from slobbering all over it. But all he had to do was bite down properly, and it would just fall away -

“Keep that there,” Riddick ordered, his lips against Xander's ear as he rumbled the order. “I like it.”

He glared at him, smacking Riddick's arm, just to show that he _was_  in fact pissed off.

Riddick trailed his fingers under Xander's jaw. “I'll make it worth your while.”

He snorted.

“Let someone  _else_  talk for once,” he drawled, and trailed the point of the feather he'd stolen from Xander's hair along the younger man's arm. Xander wriggled, flushed, and swatted Riddick's arm again.

He laughed, and trailed the feather across Xander's collarbone, up his neck, stroking his jaw. He tickled at the point of the other's jaw, and laughed again when Xander arched up, squeaking around the apple in his teeth. The feather trailed soft and ticklish against his skin, and the combination of the leather, the feather, the silk... it was all soft and sleek and smooth. He keened, arching up harder, and accidentally bit straight through the apple, which rolled away from him, across the bed. He cleared his throat, sheepishly, and chewed the mouthful of apple, swallowing. “...sorry.”

“You don't listen well to orders, do you?” He crossed his arms.

Xander cleared his throat. “...not so much.”

Riddick rolled on top of Xander, pinning him to the bed with his body, pressing his chest to the other's leather-clad chest, and nipped at his jaw.

He groaned a little, resting his palms on the other's ass, rubbing the supple leather. “Feel like getting the nice silk sheets all covered in spunk? Cause I kinda  _really_  like the idea of having sex in the middle of all this... luxury.”

“You want to pretend you're rich,” he drawled, but rocked into Xander, rocking him back on the silk sheets, laughing as he moaned, arching up into him.

“We  _are_  rich,” Xander groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making your way through this! And thanks to Angelwarrior1 for convincing me I probably should post these up here. :D


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